Thursday, November 07, 2013


All the community gardens are locked, so I try to walk in a graveyard. There’s construction, so the gate is open. But apparently I’m not allowed.

They even have gates around the grass in the parks. I stand on the roots of trees, pushing through the sidewalk: I need something other than hard cement to align me. A downpour in New York is a taste of heaven, the rain washing all the smells away, the wind blowing us air yes air finally air.

I do remember when I used to piss on the gates of that graveyard after the bars closed, I never realized then that it was such prime real estate.  But I’m confused by unquestioning loyalty to the experimental canon. These are better writers, and often more elitist. How do we create something challenging and open?
Maybe I’m just confused by unquestioning loyalty.

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